Backward and Forward
by AZGirl
Summary: Clay has a minor setback in his recovery from the injuries he received in Manila, and Bravo's quietest teammate takes the initiative to help him move forward.
1. Chapter One: Setback

**Spoilers:** Set between episode 2.22 Never Out of the Fight and 3.01 Welcome to the Refuge, Part I.

**A/N:** This story is dedicated to Celticgal1041 in honor of her birthday. *****Happy Birthday, my friend!***** I hope you enjoy the story.

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"Life is full of disappointments, failures and setbacks. None of those things can permanently stop you. You have the power in you to overcome anything that life throws at you. There is nothing as powerful as a made up mind. Surround yourself with people who remind you that you matter, and support you in the ways that matter most to you. No person, situation, or circumstance can define who you are. Don't give up, cave in, or stop believing that it's possible. It's not over until you win." ~~~~~ Les Brown.

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**Chapter One: Setback**

Clay slammed his bedroom door shut, and hissed at the pain the action had caused. He had completely forgotten about his wrist due to his growing black mood.

So determined to return to Bravo, he started working out more and more to get back into top shape. Unfortunately, his bad leg had not been quite ready for the amount of punishment it was receiving and it had failed on him, causing him to fall. To add insult to re-injury, Clay had fallen awkwardly on his right wrist. He had been pretty certain it wasn't broken, but it hurt enough that he'd had to get it checked out.

He'd been hiding the extra workouts from his teammates, doing only the prescribed exercises when they, or anyone he knew, were around. Thankfully, when his leg gave out, no one he knew was around, but word had still somehow made its way back to his team. The Doc said he had suffered a minor setback in his still-healing muscles along with a most-definitely sprained wrist. He was ordered to rest and not work out for a week, as well as being advised against driving anywhere during that time. Thankfully, his bad wrist was not the one he needed for the cane he'd been ordered to use just in case.

A week to ten days. A minor setback.

Clay understood the words, but all he could hear was that he would be kept from doing what he loved that much longer – if he even made it back to Bravo. He knew there were no guarantees in that regard, but a setback made it seem all the more likely he would be reassigned elsewhere. Doubt was once again taking root in his head.

And then, to add further insult to his already crappy day, he was met outside the base hospital by Jason and Trent. His guess was that the doctor he'd seen had called Trent, who then called Jason. They were obviously his ride home whether he wanted them or not. As he limped up to the two men, he reached into the pocket of his jeans for his keys, handing them over to Trent as he passed them, and made his way towards the parking lot and Jason's truck.

Given the initial silence after he'd gone by, he'd apparently surprised the two men by surrendering his keys without any argument. Once Clay had laid eyes on them, he knew there was no point in saying anything for or against him driving. Just as there was no point in trying to get a ride home with Trent driving his car instead of having to ride with Jason.

He was also very aware he was going to get two lectures – one from Jason on the way back to his apartment and one from Trent once they arrived. Angry with himself, and with having to use the damned cane again to aid in stability, he just sits there and listens to them both. He only sort of pays attention, having already guessed the majority of what his former boss and teammate would say, and nodded in what he hoped were the right places.

He knows he screwed up, and he is well aware of the consequences of that screw up, the cane he was ordered to use being a huge clue. Escaping the inevitable was never going to happen, and he wondered how long it would be before he heard from the rest of Bravo. Sonny will yell at him in a way that shows how much he cares, and Ray will come across as disappointed while still being encouraging. He was not looking forward to either conversation – not that he'd get much of a word in edgewise. The wild card would be in how Brock will respond. On the whole Brock doesn't say much, but somehow he gets a lot across in other ways.

Once the lectures are over, they escort him to his apartment as if he couldn't handle the elevator on his own or the walk around the corner to his door. The escort was also inevitable, but instead of being thankful for it, it only makes him more and more angry with himself, enough that when they finally leave he wants to yell or break something. Instead, he settles for slamming his bedroom door, which makes him feel better even as he hopes the two older men didn't hear the sound and come back to break down the door thinking something happened to him.

After a few moments, when he realizes they aren't coming, Clay sits on the edge of his bed. He's very aware of the flag hanging on the wall behind him, and does his best to ignore it. Once Swanny got his head on straight after he got out of the hospital, it was a source of inspiration and determination to make it back to Bravo. Now, it feels like the flag is mocking him and he can't help but miss Swanny's cheesy encouragements. He can't stop the brief flashback to when he found Swanny in the man's truck – dead.

The day after he has his setback, Jason texts him that Bravo got spun up for a mission. He doesn't reply, because he's no longer part of Bravo. Nonetheless, it's still a punch to the gut every time his former team goes out in the field without him. With Bravo out of the country, Swanny dead, Stella not around, his wrist and leg hurting, and not able to do much of anything, Clay can feel himself freefalling back down into the dark hole he'd had to dig himself out of after getting hurt in Manilla. It's not long before he's drowning in the feelings of loss, doubts, hopelessness, and more.

Three days later, he's back down at the bottom of that dark hole and barely taking care of even his basic needs.

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**Next time****: Chapter Two: An Idea**

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**A/N: **The remaining chapters will be posted on the next two Fridays.

Many thanks to Celticgal1041 for proofing even though this is her birthday story. Any remaining mistakes are my fault.

Disclaimer: SEAL Team is not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.

_**Thanks for reading!**_


	2. Chapter Two: An Idea

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**Chapter Two: An Idea**

The quiet one. That's what he's always been called.

It's not that he doesn't like to talk. Rather, he prefers to wait until he has something worth saying.

Being known as the quiet one of Bravo means he's not really expected to say anything unless the job calls for it. Heck, some days he talks more to his dog than his brothers on Bravo. When he does say something, it's not all that uncommon for the guys to razz him about it. He's fine with that and often enjoys the creativity of their remarks.

Just before the brief debrief for their next mission, Brock learns the rest of the details regarding Clay's setback. Spenser sprained his wrist and re-injured his leg while trying to get back into shape; injuries which might set back the younger man's return to the team. Given what he knew about his friend, he wasn't surprised Clay had pushed himself too far; he was only surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

Brock decides to hold off on contacting Clay, knowing Sonny will want first crack at it after they've retrieved their cell phones. While waiting for the plane to take off, he texts Spenser but gets no reply. Realizing his brother was probably not in the best frame of mind at the moment and likely not in the mood to talk, he then sends a photo he'd taken earlier that morning of Cerberus catching a rope toy in midair, hoping to cheer the younger man up a little. Normally, Clay acknowledges every one of his texts, even if it's with just an emoji of a random animal, but still there is no reply. He tries not to worry about the lack of contact, but knows he fails when Cerberus sits next to him and puts her head in his lap.

Due to the mission at hand, Brock tries to put his worry on the back burner, knowing he needs to get his head in the game and keep it there for the sake of the team's safety. Before settling down to sleep, he does ask if anyone has heard from Clay. Sonny nearly bites his head off about it, which clearly meant the Texan hadn't been able to reach Spenser either. From the expression on Jason's face, he's not the only one concerned about not hearing back from their youngest brother. Cerberus wanting to be with him in his hammock is a clear sign that she has picked up on the tension in the plane. As he scratches behind her ears, he tries to clear his mind for sleep and for the mission ahead. He's only partially successful.

Thankfully, though it was a difficult mission, all of Bravo made it through alive with only a few minor scratches barely worth even mentioning.

As per usual, they had been under a communications blackout for anything not mission critical. When they touch down a week later, Brock sees Sonny immediately pull out his phone. Sonny's not the only one to do so, and he hopes that Clay had been in communication with at least one of the team, or things might get a little hairy. And not because Cerberus had been shedding.

From the sudden influx of cussing, especially from Sonny, it's obvious Clay hadn't bothered to respond to any of their voice mails or texts from before they left. The younger man hadn't come to welcome them home either. He knows Sonny had tried calling Spenser several times, and cussed every time the calls immediately went to voice mail.

Brock doesn't worry about the lack of communication at first. His young brother could be at a doctor's appointment or home asleep, not picking up for any number of reasons. Besides, after Manila, Spenser had gone radio silent with all of them, so it wasn't too much of a stretch to think it might happen again given the situation.

Knowing Sonny won't give up trying to get a hold of Clay, Brock trusts the Texan to follow up with the kid, and decides to take care of Cerberus and his gear first. He'll try texting again later.

He doesn't know what happened, but Spenser finally breaks his silence – sort of. According to the others, Spenser won't answer a phone call but he will text, replying only when asked a direct question. At least he's finally communicating again. He suspects Clay had a visit from some combination of Trent, Sonny, and Jason, which prompted the change. Having dealt with guilt due to his shoulder injury, he knows Ray would've respected the radio silence for a bit longer before approaching Spenser. As the quiet one, he had an excuse, but any longer and he would've confronted the kid at some point – in person and not via texting as per how they usually connect.

Based on their limited text conversations, Brock was certain Clay needed to be cheered up, needed help with getting outside of his head and with forgetting his injuries for a little while. The too-short, text-only answers, and lack of the usual emojis, were evidence of that in his mind. He missed the random 'fruit salad*,' 'food buffet,' and whatever other themed strings of emojis his brother occasionally sent him out of the blue.

More than once, he's noticed how Clay tended to retreat into himself or into his books – or both. The problem is that the kid can get trapped there. Seeing his teammates likely only served as a reminder of what Spenser was thinking – and probably believing – he might never have again, making it even more difficult to come back from wherever he retreated to.

Brock had talked to Trent, who as medic had been allowed limited access to Clay's medical records since they returned from their Gucci deployment. His friend couldn't give details, but Trent was very optimistic overall, believing their younger brother would be back with the team someday relatively soon.

It was only another couple of days before Clay would be off restriction due to his minor setback in healing. Brock was starting to think Spenser has had too much time alone while they had been overseas, and was having trouble seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. In his mind, he had absolutely no doubt Clay would return to Bravo and be out on missions with them before they knew it. The trouble as he saw it was that Clay Spenser, Bravo 6, was still having trouble believing that fact, hence, the mental and emotional aspects that have popped up time and again during his young brother's recovery.

This was just another hurdle, and a temporary one at that, towards that goal. He just needed to get Clay to see it too. But, after all the kid had been through, this temporary setback might have not necessarily shattered Clay's still-fragile confidence and determination, but instead badly dinged it. Being alone for a week and in minimal communication with anyone had not helped Spenser's mindset one bit.

At the moment, Brock wasn't sure how he could help the younger man. Being the quiet one, he wasn't that well known for talking through what was bothering him, preferring other means to get back on an even keel. Many times, Clay sat by him for exactly that reason – quiet. It was companionship without any of the pressure to make conversation. Maybe this time he needed to be quiet, yet at the same time, find a way to bring Clay out of his head and refocus on getting back onto Bravo in a way that prevented further re-injury.

He wracked his brain while sitting out on his patio, enjoying the cool evening air. It wasn't long before his ideas become more and more supernatural in nature. Eventually, Cerberus sought him out, sitting down next to him and laying her head on his knees. The soulful eyes were staring at him, and at first, Brock thought it was time for him to take the dog out for some exercise.

Then, quick as a flash of lightning, he had an idea. It wasn't foolproof, but it might just work.

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**Story Note**:

-"Fruit salad" = This phrase is also slang for a servicemember's display of medals and ribbons on a dress uniform (aka "salad bar"), but in the context of this story, it's referring to a string of random fruit emojis in a text message.

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**Next time****: **Chapter Three: It's Not Over

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**A/N: **I will do my best to post the final chapter next week, but due to the holidays, I can't guarantee it. At most, the chapter would be late by only a few days. Thanks for understanding.

_**Merry Christmas**_ and _**Happy Chanukah**_…and to those who don't celebrate either – _**Happy Holidays**_**!**

-For those of you interested in a Christmas-themed story from me, I have posted one for the Magnum P.I. fandom.

Many thanks to Celticgal1041 for proofing even though this is her birthday story. Any remaining mistakes are my fault.

_**Thanks for reading!**_


	3. Chapter Three: It's Not Over, Part One

**A/N:** As predicted, because of Christmas, I didn't have time to finish the story. However, the third chapter had a natural break, so I decided something was better than nothing. Enjoy!

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**Chapter Three: It's Not Over, Part One**

Clay was stretched out on his couch, wondering how long it would take for him to be forgotten once it was confirmed he wouldn't be returning to Bravo, when someone knocked on his door. Spenser contemplated not answering, thinking he might get away with it because it was quiet within his apartment.

Earlier in the morning, he'd been listening to music, skipping tracks which reminded him too much of people and things he'd rather not think about. Eventually, he was skipping more songs than he was listening to and had turned off the music. For a while, he'd also tried reading, but eventually gave up on that as well when he couldn't concentrate for longer than a paragraph or two before his mind would wander and he'd lose his place.

He was still on modified radio silence, something forced upon him by Jason after he'd ignored every form of communication from his former team. Jason, and especially Sonny, just wanted to make sure he wasn't lying dead on his bathroom floor because he wouldn't answer their calls. Eventually, he'd gotten them to accept that he would only text, and to stop forcing their company on him. The more time he spent with anyone from Bravo, the harder he felt it would be to let their friendships go when he would, at best, be decommissioned from active service with a Tier One team, or at worst, given a medical discharge.

Whoever it was knocked again. None of the guys had a key, so he didn't have to worry about anyone coming in. He was going to ignore whoever it was, but then he heard something scratching at his door. A moment later there was more scratching, and he realized getting away with ignoring his visitor was not going to happen, because he knew who was at the door. Still, in a bout of pure stubbornness, he tried anyway.

And failed. Sure enough, there was another knock at his door, accompanied by yet another round of the scratching noise.

"Cerberus knows you're in there, Clay. You might as well open the door."

Clay sighed and cursed up a storm within the confines of his own head. He just wanted to be left alone to wallow as he began mentally preparing for a life that might not include operating or the men he considered to be his brothers.

Spenser was thankful Brock, and by extension Cerberus, cared enough to check on him, but he didn't have the mental energy to deal with even the quietest member of his team – his _ex_-team.

There was the sound of a single knock before he heard: "Clay."

Clay sighed, and said, "Coming."

Slowly he got up from the couch using his coffee table and the damned cane as leverage. The first step was a bit unsteady because he hadn't been on his feet much that day. Usually, when he walked anywhere, it took him a few steps before his leg was moving more normally. Unfortunately, there were not enough steps to his door for that to happen and he had to use his cane to help get him there. He unlocked the door and backed away, heading straight back to his comfy couch.

When Cerberus scratched at his door yet again, Clay said, "It's open."

The door had barely opened before Cerberus had slipped through, jumping onto the couch before Clay could start carefully lowering himself back down onto it.

"Cerb. Come on now. Down," Clay said, hoping the dog would listen to him. When he was ignored, he looked over toward Brock who'd let himself in and shut the door. "Brock?"

The older man grinned and said, "No can do, Bud. We've got a mission."

Spenser's hand tensed, gripping the handle of the cane until his knuckles were white. "We?"

Brock's grinned widened, and suddenly Clay could hear thumping behind him, distracting him from arguing about the impossibility of him going out on a mission. Clay turned to see Cerberus's tail rhythmically hitting the back of the couch in an excited manner.

Spenser tipped his head towards the dog's direction, and said, "I thought she***** wasn't allowed on the furniture."

"She's not – unless I give the command."

"So, why…?"

"Wanted to make sure you couldn't sit back down and wallow some more."

Reynolds clapped his hands and rubbed them together, looking a tad too smug for Spenser's taste. "So…mission. Ready?"

"There is no mission for me. I'm not going anywhere, because I'm grounded. You know that."

Brock made a sound like a game show buzzer. "Sorry, but you're wrong about that."

Clay ignored his friend, and moved to sit in the chair next to the couch. Brock utters a word Clay doesn't understand and Cerberus quickly jumped from the couch and into the chair.

"Stop it, man. Not in the mood," Spenser said, getting angry at the thought the whole thing might be a practical joke.

"Nope," Brock said, drawing the word out and making a popping sound with the second half of it. Taking a step towards the younger man, he put his hands on Spenser's shoulders and said. "You're coming with us." Reynolds then let his face scrunch up as if there was something nasty nearby. "And please, do us all a favor: Go wash up and change clothes."

Clay sighed. He could already tell it was futile to resist in any way if he wanted any peace and quiet, so he decided to just go with whatever plan Brock had concocted, trusting the older man to not steer him wrong.

"Fine," he said, heading towards his bedroom. Just before entering his room, he asked. "Where?"

"You'll see," Brock replied, just barely spotting Clay rolling his eyes. Once the door was shut, he continued, yelling out, "And wear something you wouldn't mind getting dirty."

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**STORY NOTE****:**

-"She" – On SEAL Team, Cerberus is a male dog, but in real life the character is played by Dita The Hair Missile Dog, a _female_ Belgian Malinois. I choose to go with the dog's real life gender in this story for narrative purposes. Apologies for any confusion.

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**Next time**_**: **_Chapter Three: It's Not Over, Part Two

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**A/N:** I will post the second part of the chapter as soon as I can, but it may be another week at the latest. Thanks for understanding.

Just in case…. I hope you have a happy and safe New Year 2020!

Many thanks to Celticgal1041 for proofing even though this is her birthday story. Any remaining mistakes are my fault.

_**Thanks for reading!**_


	4. Chapter Four: It's Not Over, Part Two

**A/N:** Welcome to the final chapter; it's the longest by far.

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**Chapter Four: It's Not Over, Part Two**

Twenty minutes later, the two SEALs were making their way out to Brock's truck, Cerberus following along behind. Of course, Brock was going to be driving; it's not like there was any other option given his restrictions. Clay just managed to hold back the sigh that wanted to escape because he was reminded how much he missed driving.

Not being able to drive for so many months as he'd recovered from what had happened in Manila had been difficult. He had lost yet another way to help exercise the demons trying to gain a foothold within him. For some reason, once again losing the ability to drive, even if it was only temporary, was so much harder to deal with. Whatever Brock had planned, the advantage was that it also served to allow him to get out on the road, relax, and enjoy the scenery.

At first, Clay recognized where they were, but it wasn't long before he was basically lost. About an hour later, Brock finally turned down a nearly-hidden side road. Cerberus suddenly perked up, clearly looking excited about wherever they were headed. It was obvious the dog had been to their mysterious destination more than once and liked the place. From the relaxed look on Reynolds' face, Brock liked the place as well.

Intent on the rare look of peace on the older man's face, Clay almost missed the sign next to road just before they reach an entry gate: Agape Skylos Foundation*. Having grown up with missionary grandparents, Spenser was well aware that _agape_ was one of the Greek words for love, but he had no idea what _skylos_ meant. Even with all of the languages he knew, Greek was not one of them – unless food- and Bible-related words counted, and to his knowledge that word was neither.

Brock slowed way down once they went through the gate, and it only increased Clay's curiosity over where they were and why. He saw a few people with dogs roaming about, but there were no overt clues as to the purpose of the foundation.

Once the truck was parked in a small lot next to a building that was likely the office, Clay eased himself out of the truck, his muscles stiff after sitting for so long. Cerberus jumped out of the truck on his side and sat next to him. He took in his surroundings, seeing several other buildings, including one that was most likely stables.

Brock came around to meet him and they started heading towards the stables. As they head there, a couple of people recognize and say hello to Brock, who waved or nodded his head in acknowledgment of their greetings. Cerberus was quite obviously chomping at the bit to reach their destination, and it only served to increase his curiosity about the place.

When they entered the stables, instead of the horses he was expecting, there were dogs of all ages and many different breeds.

Spenser stopped in his tracks. "What is this place?"

"What do you think it is?" Reynolds replied, looking back at Clay.

Clay shrugged. He knew Brock would have nothing to do with a puppy mill, and the place was too clean and well-organized to be one. Something about this site was telling him it was a lot more than a place where dogs were bred. "Not sure. Some kind of sanctuary?"

Brock smiled. "Close enough." He gestured for Clay to follow. "This way."

Clay, Brock, and Cerberus start heading towards one of the back corners of the building. Along the way, Clay noticed how many of the dogs are from medium- to larger-sized breeds, like the Belgian Malinois that Cerberus is.

Occasionally, Clay noticed Cerberus, who was walking in between them, look up at his handler for a moment before refocusing on something in the distance. Eventually, Brock laughed before giving a command which had the dog running ahead of the two of them.

The older man didn't explain except to shrug one shoulder before saying, "She does this every time."

Spenser didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't a large space filled with what seem to be several litters of puppies ambling around and playing with each other. At first glance, Cerberus was nowhere to be seen, but Brock doesn't seem concerned.

Clay found out why when the older man carefully opened the gate leading into the pen – Cerberus was already inside, and it looked like she was helping to break up a play fight that was rapidly becoming less playful between two of the puppies.

Brock chuckled and held the gate open for Clay, making sure none of the puppies escaped. "Cerberus loves coming here and acting like a den mother or favorite aunt in the play pens."

"Would've had trouble imaging it, had I not seen it with my own eyes."

Reynolds headed over to a large bin along the nearest wall and opened it, pulling out a couple of vinyl-covered cushions plus a few smaller towels. "Once they've been weaned, different groups of the younger pups are put in here to start learning how to socialize with each other and whichever humans are available to hang out with them." Brock dropped the two cushions on the ground. "Sit down. I thought you might enjoy them. They can't help but lift the spirits*****."

Noticing Clay's reticence to sit, likely due to his bad leg, Brock rolled his eyes and put a hand on the younger man's forearm. He nodded his head towards the ground, and after a long moment Clay huffed in frustration and allowed him to help with sitting down. From what he'd observed during the process, it seemed Clay was definitely going to be allowed off restrictions on his next doctor's visit.

Brock settled down beside Clay and tossed him one of the towels. "In case one the puppies gets a little too excited once they decide to come over and check us out."

Cerberus trotted up to Brock and settled by the man's side, but it's obvious the dog was keeping an eye on the puppies in the pen. The attentiveness seemed different than when the dog was working, and it was definitely endearing to observe, making Clay smile slightly.

They sat in quiet companionship, watching the puppies run around and play. Eventually, some of them get curious and find their way into Clay's lap. One in particular seemed to sense Clay was not in the best frame of mind, content to remain in the younger man's arms being petted. Brock noticed the puppy's ID number, and made a mental note to tell someone about its potential to be a good companion or service dog for a veteran if they didn't make the cut as a war or police dog.

More than once Cerb left Brock's side to do a sweep of the play pen, keeping the puppies out of trouble before returning to his human partner's side. Surprisingly, the dog doesn't get jealous of the various puppies which approach them for pets and cuddles. And, more than once, Brock noticed someone coming to check up on the play pen, though none of the people break the relative silence.

It took a while, but Clay began to look as if he was more at peace than he'd been since he'd reinjured his leg.

Brock waited a for several more minutes, smiling when he saw that the puppy in Clay's arms had fallen asleep and wishing he could take a photo of all the adorableness – not that he'd ever use that word out loud – that was right next to him.

Quietly Brock began speaking. "It's not over yet. You know that, right?"

Clay, who had been staring off into the middle distance while continuously petting the puppy in his lap, blinked heavily, shrugged one shoulder, and then dropped his head to intently focus on the dog. To Brock, it's as good as any verbal answer the younger man could've given. Apparently, the kid really _didn't_ know, had perhaps accepted something that was not yet written in stone – or in reams of forms printed out in triplicate.

He was about to say something else, when Clay mumbled, "'You have to accept the real possibility that you may never be able to operate again*****'."

"What?"

Spenser sighed and looked up towards him. "'You have to accept the real possibility that you may never be able to operate again.'"

"Your doctors?"

Clay nodded. "More than one doctor said that or something similar. It's been bouncing around inside my head ever since."

Brock remained quiet, knowing that such a tactic often had people filling in the silence. Clay did not disappoint. "Swanny managed to get me distracted from that potential prognosis, fighting to recover and to rehab, but…"

"Your setback has brought it up again, and it's all you've been thinking about," Brock filled in, and Clay nodded. "And without any support readily available at the beginning, you've gone back to thinking the worst case scenario."

Clay nodded once again and looked down at the puppy, caressing its long, brown ears. Brock, taking a chance, shifted his weight so his shoulder was touching Clay's. He almost missed it, but Spenser gave him a brief sideways glance. Then, after a long moment, Clay leaned into the touch. Other than bro-hugs, Spenser wasn't much into displays of affection, so Brock was happy the younger man had accepted a minimal amount of comfort from him.

They sat quietly for another few minutes before Brock continued speaking. "You want to know what I think, Spense?"

Clay briefly looked at him, quirked an eyebrow, and smiled slightly; Brock figured it was because of the nickname. It was an obvious one, given the kid's name, but it was rarely, if ever, used due to the ridiculous nicknames Sonny regularly came up with for Clay. Brock decided it would be his nickname for his friend from now on.

"I think you'll be back with Bravo before you know it," Brock said, answering his own question.

"You don't know that," Clay said, obviously dismissing what he'd just heard.

"You know how Trent has limited access to your medical records?" When Clay nodded, Brock continued, "He hasn't mentioned specifics, but… He knows you Spense, and he seemed really optimistic about your chances. Your team believes you'll be coming back, so all you need to do is accept the wisdom of your older and wiser brothers."

Clay chuckled, waking the puppy in his lap. It shifted into a new position and promptly went back to sleep, encouraged to do so by the continuous petting it was receiving.

"Sonny? Wiser?"

Brock smirked. "Well, maybe not Sonny."

"Definitely older though."

"Definitely."

They both laughed, causing Cerberus' head to perk up. She got up and did a sweep of the play pen before returning and proceeding to worm her way in between the two men, laying her head on Brock's legs.

"It's not that easy," Clay said.

Brock nudged Clay's shoulder. "It really is, but you also need to believe in yourself. Setbacks happen to everyone, the trick is to not let them defeat you." After a second nudge of Clay's shoulder, Reynolds added, "Or to cause them to happen in the first place."

Clay let out a groan of frustration. "A lecture from you too?"

"No lecture. Just stating a fact. Something you already know, and hopefully won't do again."

Cerberus shifted her head from Brock's to Clay's lower leg and stared at the younger man as if waiting for him to promise.

"I won't."

"Good," Brock said before chuckling and then adding, "because I can only take so much of Sonny's pining for you."

Clay muttered a few choice words, proving he could swear as well as any sailor.

"Not if front of the kids," Brock said, gesturing towards the puppy in Spense's arms and then towards the rest of the balls of fur in the play pen.

Clay rolled his eyes at the lame joke before carefully picking up another puppy who had wandered over to the side not taken up by Cerberus. As they continued to sit, Brock still occasionally itched to take a photo of Clay, who now had two sleepy puppies in his lap. He just barely refrained, deciding to keep the memory of how relaxed and at peace Spense was looking after so long to himself. Plus, Brock was fully aware he would never see another sunrise if Clay caught him.

At one point, Brock looked over at his brother to see Clay making a face he recognized, one that spoke of pain and discomfort. His young brother would report injuries, but Reynolds had long since learned Spenser was incapable of admitting how much pain he truly was in, so Brock took the initiative.

"What do you say to a tour of the rest of this place?" Brock said, guessing Clay's leg muscles had become stiff from sitting in the same position for so long and hoping going for a walk might help. "We can see more of what the foundation does, and of course"—he grinned—"visit with more of the dogs."

"Sounds good, man," Clay said, looking relieved as he carefully started to shift the two dozy puppies off his lap.

Without comment from either of them, Brock helped Clay stand, letting the younger man regain his footing first before putting away the cushions and towels they'd been using.

Reynolds let them out, making sure there were no escapees, and followed after Spenser, who seemed to walk better – almost normally, in fact – after several steps. As he followed along behind, Brock realized Clay didn't seem to notice he wasn't really using the cane except as leverage to get in and out of the car and up and down from the ground of the play pen. That fact only served to increase his certainty that his young brother would eventually be back with Bravo.

Just before they were to exit out of the building, Clay said, "Do you think we could come back here again? Maybe between missions or deployments?"

On the inside, having heard those words, Brock was throwing a party – mentally jumping up and down for joy and cheering out loud. It cemented his belief that Clay would no longer let anything – including rushing his recovery – stop him from operating again.

But, being the quiet guy, Brock simply said, "Yeah, sure."

ooooooo

_**Epilogue… **_

As he walked towards the exit, Clay couldn't help but glance down at the paperwork he'd been given. It wasn't the first time he'd done so, and he suspected it wouldn't be the last, especially since he was almost paranoid it might disappear at any moment. That what it declared wasn't really valid.

Spenser hadn't told anyone about his appointment, not wanting to disappoint them if things hadn't come out his way. He wasn't sure if he could've handled any other outcome, having focused on moving forward with his recovery by paying strict attention to instructions from his various doctors and physical therapists. He'd been lectured by everyone related to Bravo, and was thankful for how much they cared about him, but it was Brock's intervention using the puppies that had been what he'd needed to pull himself out – _and stay out_ – of the dark hole he'd fallen back into due to his setback.

Opening the door, Clay stepped out into the bright midday sunshine, blinking at the brightness as he put on his sunglasses. Heading towards the parking lot, Spenser spotted Brock casually leaning against his car with Cerberus sitting by his partner's side.

Before Clay could even voice the question of how the man knew where he was, Brock smiled and nodded towards Cerberus. Spenser grinned, mentally groaning at his brief lapse of stupidity. Cerberus was very good at finding the members of her pack, especially when her human was tipped off that he was on base*.

He walked up to Brock and briefly scratched behind Cerb's ears, praising her for doing a good job in finding him, choosing to completely ignore the older man's role.

When he looked up, Brock asked, "Well?"

Clay kept his expression schooled as best he could for the longest moment, choosing to prolong replying as long as possible, though it wasn't all that long in the end.

"I've been cleared to operate."

Suddenly, the two of men were in a crushing hug punctuated with their smiles and a bark of joy from Cerberus.

When they finally parted, Clay said, "Thanks for everything, Brother."

ooooooo

**Story Notes**:

\- _Agape Skylos Foundation_ – _Agape_ is Greek for "love", considered its highest form. _Skylos_ is Greek for "dog." In this story, Agape Skylos is meant to be a combination of the various foundations and charities which provide dogs as companions, police dogs, and war dogs, with a little bit of breeding and preliminary training on the side. It's not a real place, and it was solely created as a narrative device.

-"_I thought you might enjoy them. They can't help but lift the spirits_." – Slightly edited (from "cannot" to "can't"), but the dialogue was taken from the movie _Emma_ (1996), screenplay by Douglas McGrath. The scene with Emma and Harriet visiting the puppies was one of the main inspirations for this story.

\- "_You have to accept the real possibility that you may never be able to operate again._" was taken from episode 2.18 "Payback", written by Dana Greenblatt and Teresa Huang.

\- "_on base_" – I've no idea if there is one, but for this story, the assumption is that there is an on-base hospital or clinic.

\- _Bonus story quote:_"Happiness is a warm puppy." ~~~ Charles M. Schulz

ooooooo

_**The end.**_

**ooooooo**

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**A/N:** Happy New Year!

Many thanks to Celticgal1041 for proofing even though this is her birthday story. Any remaining mistakes are my fault.

_**Thanks for reading!**_


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